


Like Rocks Under Tide

by Potrix



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alpha Bucky Barnes, Alpha Steve Rogers, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Angst, Artist Steve Rogers, Background Bruce Banner/Natasha Romanov - Freeform, Background Leo Fitz/Alphonso "Mack" Mackenzie, Background Pepper Potts/James "Rhodey" Rhodes - Freeform, Background Peter Parker/Wade Wilson - Freeform, Counselor Bucky Barnes, Cuddling & Snuggling, Established Relationship, Eventual Fluff, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Smut, Frottage, Happy Ending, Insecurity, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Masturbation, Mpreg, Omega Tony Stark, POV Tony Stark, Polyamory, Queerplatonic Bucky & Steve, Queerplatonic Relationships, Self-Doubt, Threesome - M/M/M, Unplanned Pregnancy, V-Style Relationship, V-relationship, War Veteran Bucky Barnes, War Veteran Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-01
Updated: 2016-05-11
Packaged: 2018-05-30 13:01:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6425053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Potrix/pseuds/Potrix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Taking a shuddering breath, Tony shuts off the alarm, puts the phone away to stall for another moment or two, and then finally gets up, and reaches for what he has—very aptly, in his humble opinion—named <em>The Stick of Destiny</em> lying on the edge of the sink. He fumbles with it, almost drops it twice before he manages to turn it right side up, and sees the two bright pink lines that mean he’s royally screwed. And not in the fun way. </p><p>“Shit,” Tony croaks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [beir](https://archiveofourown.org/users/beir/gifts).



> This is a commission piece for [Hanh](http://archiveofourown.org/users/hanh). 
> 
> I had a blast writing it, and hope it's what you imagined. 
> 
> Enjoy!

_A secret at home is like rocks under tide. - Dinah Craik_

~ ~ ~

Tony is sitting on the edge of the tub, left leg jittering nervously, and his bottom lip stinging from the abuse it’s been put through over the last couple of minutes. His hands are clutching his phone—which does frustratingly little to keep them from trembling—and his heart is beating a rapid, almost frantic tattoo against his chest. Out in the hall, [Baloo](http://i.imgur.com/zBShn4t.jpg) and [Simba](http://i.imgur.com/oPtgUNI.jpg) are snuffling around in confusion, probably wondering about the changes to their morning routine. 

“I’ll let you guys out in a moment,” Tony calls, the clicking of nails on the hardwood floors as the dogs excitedly hurry downstairs to wait by the back door drowned out by his phone going off. 

Taking a shuddering breath, Tony shuts off the alarm, puts the phone away to stall for another moment or two, and then finally gets up, and reaches for what he has—very aptly, in his humble opinion—named _The Stick of Destiny_ lying on the edge of the sink. He fumbles with it, almost drops it twice before he manages to turn it right side up, and sees the two bright pink lines that mean he’s royally screwed. And not in the fun way. 

“Shit,” Tony croaks. He clumsily lowers himself to the floor, not trusting his suddenly wobbly knees to support him for much longer, dropping his phone and the pregnancy test into his lap so he can bury his face in his hands. 

What are the fucking chances? After over two decades of short, irregular heats, after all the trouble and hormone injections he’d gone through just to be able to bond with his Alphas, now that he has the life he’s always dreamed of and never thought he could have, Tony’s body decides it’s the perfect time to pull a complete one-eighty. Pregnant. At forty-three. 

And as if his age alone wasn’t enough already, there are also Tony’s weak heart and lungs to consider. Is it even possible for him to carry a baby to term? What if it isn’t? Or, what if it is, and it turns out his genius and the latent alcoholism that came with it aren’t the only things Tony has inherited from Howard? What if Tony ends up being a shitty parent? He’s gotten better, but he still forgets to eat every now and again, barely remembers anything but his current project while he’s immersed in his work. What if Bucky and Steve come to this same conclusion, and decide the baby’s better off with them, and without Tony? Sure, Tony might be rich and somewhat influential, but Alphas still win around eight out of ten custody battles simply because of their secondary gender, no questions asked. 

Worst of all, though, is the realisation that he can’t even be sure which of his Alphas is the father. Tony’s never been embarrassed or ashamed to have two bondmates—screw the people who insist it’s okay for an Alpha to claim a whole harem of Omegas, but not for an Omega to have more than one mate—but not knowing if the baby is Bucky’s or Steve’s? It’s not a great feeling. 

“Fuck.” Tony’s voice is thick with unshed tears, the edges of his vision beginning to turn grey. He gulps in a burning lungful of air in a feeble attempt to stave off the panic he can feel rapidly descending on him, but is only moderately successful. 

Shaking all over, Tony heaves himself up and into the tub. Steve and Bucky will be back from their run soon, and they’re definitely going to know that something’s up if they find Tony in absolute hysterics. He turns the water as hot as it will go, hissing in discomfort when he steps under the spray. But the warmth and the rising steam eventually do the trick, slowly but steadily calming Tony’s reeling mind enough for him to wash properly, dress for the day, let out the dogs, and be in the kitchen, waiting for the coffee to brew by the time he hears Bucky and Steve jogging up the driveway.

“Mornin’, babe,” Bucky greets as he walks into the room, coming up behind Tony so he can rest his chin on Tony’s shoulder, and smack a loud, wet kiss on Tony’s cheek. 

Tony can’t help but sigh contentedly, and relax back against him, tilting his head to the side with an appreciative hum when Bucky starts nuzzling him. “You’re getting my suit all sweaty,” he complains halfheartedly. “I’m going to smell like horny Alpha all day.”

“That’s what you get for showering without us,” Steve sniffs, but ruins the effect of his pouting by hooking a finger under Tony’s chin to guide him into a kiss. He’s smiling when he pulls back. “Good morning, sweetheart.” 

“Maybe Bucky’ll wash your back if you ask nicely,” Tony shoots back teasingly, laughing when Bucky shoves him away playfully, and the Alphas grimace at each other in exaggerated disgust. 

The reaction isn’t new, or even unexpected, but it helps to quell some of Tony’s more ridiculous fears regarding the pregnancy. Steve and Bucky are very comfortable with each other—something that comes with growing up practically attached at the hip, and then spending the better part of a decade in the army together—and are more than happy to share a bed with Tony—and Tony himself—but there has never been anything romantic, or even sexual between the two of them. Logically, Tony knows this, but it doesn’t hurt to be reminded every now and again. 

“Go on, get out of here,” Tony chuckles, giving them both a quick pat on the ass. “I’ll handle breakfast.” That earns him twin looks of extreme wariness. Tony huffs, and rolls his eyes. “Set the waffle iron on fire _once_ , and this is what I get. We still have muesli. I think I can manage opening a bag, and pouring some milk.” 

“We’ll see,” Steve says innocently, then squawks, and darts for the stairs when Tony chucks the nearest dish towel at him, a laughing Bucky hot on his heels.

Tony can hear them tussle and shove at each other while he gets bowls and spoons, but the moment the doors to the bathrooms close, cutting off the noise, there’s nothing to distract him from his worrying anymore. In the ten minutes it takes Bucky and Steve to shower, change, and get back downstairs, Tony has talked himself in and out of telling them about the baby several times, and still isn’t sure how—or if—to broach the subject. 

“You okay, darlin’?” Bucky asks, making Tony startle, and glance up from where he’s listlessly swirling his spoon through his muesli to see both Bucky and Steve looking at him in mild concern. “You’re quiet, is all.” 

“I’m fine,” Tony says automatically, but, knowing that neither of his mates is going to believe that, adds, “Not exactly looking forward to the board meeting later.” 

Which isn’t a lie—the board is made up of the same Alpha traditionalists Howard had chosen way back when, and will be until they decide to retire—but not the whole truth, either. But it is enough to appease Steve and Bucky. Steve smiles in sympathy, plopping his feet down in Tony’s lap, and Bucky settles one of his hand on the back of Tony’s neck for a gentle squeeze. 

Resolutely pushing away the unpleasant twinge of guilt that comes with purposefully misleading his mates, Tony asks, “What are you guys up to today? Do you need me to come let the dogs out during lunch?” 

“Nah, I was thinking of taking them to the park later,” Steve says, running one of his feet up and down Tony’s leg. “Get some sketching done. I’m teaching a class at five, but Buck’s going to be back by then.”

Bucky nods, and expertly ducks the slap Steve aims at his head when he starts talking with his mouth full. “Yeah, I‘m workin’ at the VA with Sam ‘til one, then I have a group session at two. Shouldn’t take too long, though.”

And it’s that—Steve sounding so enthusiastic about his art again, Bucky being back in control of his own mind and body—that decides it; Bucky and Steve have fought too hard to come to terms with their respective trauma, to rebuild themselves, for Tony to mess it all up now. 

Tony doesn’t know what he’s going to do, but what he does know is that he can’t tell his mates about the baby. 

Not now. Not yet.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warning** for a brief mention of abortion. Tony is pro-choice, but he doesn't actually consider abortion in his current situation. He does have a good doctor, though, who tells him about all the options available to him.
> 
> Also; completely made up science, because I know nothing.

Tony is completely useless during the meeting, and it doesn’t go unnoticed. Anderson keeps stealing glances at Tony whenever he thinks Tony isn’t looking, Keller and Jones have been scowling for the last half hour, and Miller isn’t even bothering to be subtle as he sniffs the air, trying to catch a whiff of Tony’s scent, which is just rude.

He won’t smell anything incriminating since Tony’s wearing scent blockers, but in a couple of weeks not even those will be enough to mask Tony’s pregnancy scent, that’s not how they work. And boy, are the board members going to have a field day with this. They’d tried—unsuccessfully, yes, but that didn’t make the whole process any less annoying or time consuming—to boot Tony out on three occasions already; the first time simply because of his omega status, then again when he’d come back from Afghanistan and shut down weapons production, and again just the previous year for openly admitting to being bonded to not one, but two Alphas. Tony is a major shareholder, so they can’t actually force him to retire, but they can certainly make his life a whole lot more difficult than it already is at the moment.

“That’s it for today,” Pepper concludes, and levels Tony with a knowing look when that finally cuts off his wandering thoughts. “Thank you for your time. Good afternoon, gentlemen.”

The moment the last of the board members has left, Pepper rounds on Tony, perfectly plucked eyebrows raised demandingly. “Do you want to tell me what that was all about?”

“Not particularly, no,” Tony mumbles, then immediately shoots her an apologetic little smile when Pepper’s mouth tightens, displeased. “It’s not important.”

“It is if it’s distracting you enough to affect the company.” She perches on the edge of the table, leg pressed against Tony’s, and takes his chin between thumb and forefinger, giving his head a gentle shake. “And even if that wasn’t the case, I’m your friend, Tony. You’re important to me, and so is whatever’s eating at you.”

“I’m fine, Pep,” Tony says, going for a reassuring but falling mostly flat, if Pepper’s resigned sigh is anything to go by. “Just peachy.”

“Promise me something,” Pepper says, tightening her hold on Tony when he goes to jerk his head away. “Tony. I’m being serious. Promise me you’ll talk to someone before you end up in that destructive headspace of yours. Nothing good ever comes from that. Me, Rhodey, Bucky, Steve, it doesn’t matter. Just talk to someone before things get bad. Please?”

She releases him, and Tony gives a reluctant nod. “Of course, yeah. I’ll be sure to do that.”

It’s obvious Pepper doesn’t believe him, but she lets him go with a kiss on the cheek after putting a reminder for a lunch date in a couple of days into his phone. “One you better not miss, Mister Stark,” she says, pointing a finger at Tony as she backs out of the room.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Miss Potts,” Tony snarks back, finding himself smiling, genuine, at the grudgingly amused twitch of her mouth Pepper can’t quite hold back, even while she tries to keep a stern face.

Tony's improved mood lasts through lunch, right up until his GP calls back—Tony'd left him a message earlier, explaining the situation—to let him know that he can squeeze Tony in that afternoon. After that, Tony's too nervous to finish his meal, and spends the half hour he has until he needs to leave trying to catch up on paperwork. He gives up eventually when he realises he's reading the same document for the third time, and still hasn't absorbed any of it.

He takes one of the company cars, including chauffeur, for the trip across Manhattan—an accident is the absolutely last thing he needs right now—and tells the man to let him out near a coffee shop two blocks away from his GP's office, just to be safe. The rumour-mills would go wild if someone spotted Tony being dropped off at the doctor's, and Tony can't have any of this getting back to Bucky and Steve. Not before he has decided what to do, and how to go about it.

Fortunately, Tony doesn't have to wait long. One of the nurses waves him into the examination room after a few minutes, and draws some blood for the tests. “Doctor Banner will only be a moment,” she promises, leafing through some pamphlets, and handing a couple of them to Tony with a smile, and a cheery, “Never hurts to be prepared.”

Tony scans the first one—showing a positively glowing Omega lovingly cradling his newborn against his chest—and immediately shoves the whole stack away. Thankfully, Doctor Banner chooses that moment to walk into the room. Tony’s never been gladder to actually be friends with his GP, because Bruce takes one look at Tony, smiles sympathetically, sets his clipboard down, and wraps his arms around Tony, pulling him into a tight hug.

With a sigh, Tony closes his eyes, and drops his head on Bruce’s shoulder, just tall enough to do so while sitting on the examination table. “This is what happens when you’re not here to talk sense into me.”

Bruce snorts. “Because you always listen to me when I try,” he teases, and gives Tony another quick squeeze before pulling back.

“Admit it,” Tony says, pouting, “you just like those Indian street kids better than you like me.”

“Well, their manners are better than yours,” Bruce deadpans, and tugs his rolling chair closer, taking a seat. “So,” he continues, never one to beat around the bush, “pregnant. Your blood work confirms it. I believe congratulations are in order.”

Tony’s breath hitches, despite him having more than suspected it already. He buries his face in his hands, mumbling, “Are they, though?” Bruce makes a questioning noise. “I can’t— I don’t— I’m forty-three, for fuck’s sake. And I’m not healthy, Bruce, you know I’m not, this can’t be—”

“Take a deep breath,” Bruce interrupts calmly, kindly, his hands a warm, comforting weight on Tony’s knees. Tony manages a few shuddering inhales, and Bruce nods, satisfied, before going on. “What do you want, Tony?”

“I—” Tony croaks, then shrugs helplessly. “I don’t know.”

“Have you decided if you’d like to keep the baby?”

“What?” Tony asks, frowning. “You think I should give it away?”

“That’s your decision to make, not mine,” Bruce says. “My job is to tell you about your options. One of which is adoption, yes, if you decide to go through with the pregnancy.”

When it finally clicks, Tony is quick to shake his head. “No! I mean yes. I want to go through with it. And keep it. Definitely keep it.”

The sudden, fierce urge to protect takes Tony completely by surprise, as do his hands he finds curled over his abdomen when he looks down at himself. Tony has always been clear about his views when it comes to the right to choose—he still has a framed newspaper snippet of him and Rhodey proudly marching in a pro-choice rally in the early 80s on his desk at SI—but that isn’t the issue here. Tony wants, he really does, now that he’s actively confronted with the situation, but he isn’t sure that wanting is enough. He swallows hard, and shoves his trembling hands under his thighs.

“All right, then,” Bruce says, either unaware of, or—more likely, because he’s the awesome person he is—politely ignoring Tony’s revelation, and resulting mini breakdown. Bless him. “Your age, as well as your arrhythmia and reduced lung capacity, could become a problem, especially in the last trimester. It’s nothing we can’t handle, however,” he reassures, checking something on his clipboard. “Your heart medication is on the list of pregnancy approved ones, so you can keep taking it as you have been. I’ll let Doctor Simmons know when I write your referral. She’ll start you on a course of prenatal vitamins, and you’ll have to go through frequent check-ups as the pregnancy progresses, maybe spend a couple of weeks on bedrest at the end, but other than that, you’re good to go.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” Tony says, slumping in relief. Not ideal, but manageable. Tony’s been faced with worse odds, and come out on top. “But Bruce, Brucie Bear, unofficial love of my life. Doctor Simmons?”

Bruce pins Tony with a pointed look. “Yes, Doctor Simmons. She’s lovely, smart, capable, and, unlike me, an actual Omegatrician. And she delivered both of my kids.”

“I’m not sure having brought those two brats into the world is a point in her favour,” Tony says, which is a complete and utter lie; Tony adores his nieces, and Bruce knows it, too.

“I’ll let Natasha know that’s how you feel,” he drawls, but softens the blow somewhat by handing Tony one of the lollipops that are meant for his brave little patients, but are way too delicious to pass up. Even at forty-three.

He stops Tony with a hand on the elbow when Tony’s about to leave, his expression showing real concern for the first time that day. “Piece of advice?”

Tony grimaces, but asks, “As my doctor, or as my friend?”

“Both. Talk to Bucky and Steve, Tony,” Bruce says, serious. “Tell them. For your sake, and for your peace of mind.”

Tony doesn’t insult either of them by asking how Bruce knows that’s what he’s struggling with, but he doesn’t make any promises, either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Regarding the boys' sexual orientations, in case anyone was wondering; Bucky likes males of all secondary genders, Steve likes Omegas of all primary genders, and Tony really doesn't give a shit. So, I guess, while Bucky'd be gay in a non-ABO universe, both him and Steve are bisexual here. And Tony's happily pansexual.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You get a background pairing! You get a background pairing! Everyone gets a background pairing!
> 
> **Warning** for talk about mental health issues, and Tony having what (although not specified) resembles a panic attack.

Tony stumbles out of bed, bleary-eyed and barely awake, and makes it to the bathroom just in time. Once the worst of the nausea has passed, and he has thrown up what little he’d managed to eat the night before—along with half of his internal organs, by the feel of it—Tony stays kneeled in front of the toilet for a couple more minutes, cheek pressed against the cold plastic of the seat, and eyes screwed shut as he waits. Morning sickness is the worst, and he’s been caught by surprise by a sudden second wave enough times over the last couple of days to be cautious now.

Today must be one of his lucky days, though, because Tony manages to brush his teeth, and have a quick shower without his stomach protesting too much. Towel slung around his waist, Tony slips out into the hall, relieved when the familiar sounds of the dogs moving around downstairs are all he can hear, which means his little adventure has gone unnoticed, and Steve and Bucky are still asleep.

He quickly makes his way back to the guest room, though he can’t help but stop on the way, and chance a peek into the master bedroom. Steve is lying on the side of the bed closer to the door, one arm stretched out across the mattress, and fingers curled into a spare pillow. Tony can’t see his face, but if his expression is anything like Bucky’s, Tony’s actually kind of glad about that, because Bucky—even in sleep—looks heartbreakingly sad. The corners of his mouth are turned down into a slight pout, his brow is furrowed into a frown, and the arm he has slung across the bed is twitching restlessly, fumbling around for the person supposed to be lying in the empty space between the two Alphas.

Swallowing down the bubble of guilt rising up his throat, Tony forces himself to turn away before his resolve breaks, and he does something stupid like join Bucky and Steve on the bed. There’s a reason Tony’s moved to the guest room, and no matter how tempting it is to go snuggle up to his mates for a little while before they all have to leave for the day, Tony can’t do that. Not unless he wants Steve and Bucky to figure out what’s going on, and he can’t let that happen, because what if?

What if they don’t want the baby? Tony has only just come to terms with the idea that he wants to keep it, and he’s terrified of what he’d do if his boyfriends—his Alphas, his bondmates, the parts that make him whole, the loves of his life—would tell him they don’t. Tony knows himself well enough to be afraid that he’d choose them over his own wants and needs, and he isn’t sure he could live with himself if it came to that.

And what if they do want to have the baby? Nothing has changed, really, all of Tony’s fears are still valid; his health issues, although manageable, are as present as ever, there’s no guarantee he’s going to be a good dad, the board members are going to take drastic measures to get rid of him once he informs them of his condition, and he still has no idea if Steve or Bucky is the baby’s father, or how the Alpha who isn’t the other parent is going to react to this entire situation.

The life they’ve built together over the last five years, the life they’ve fought for so hard is about to change drastically, and what if Tony isn’t the only one who isn’t ready for that? Even after over half a decade out of that godforsaken POW camp, there are still days when Bucky struggles with making the simplest of decisions, and needs Steve and Tony to guide him, to lean on for support. And while Steve’s on medication, working his ass off in therapy, and hasn’t had a major depressive episode in nearly three years, the illness itself is still there, always lingering. Tony doesn’t think for a second that either Bucky—who’s great with kids, gentle, sweet, and just a tiny bit silly—or Steve—the kindest, most dedicated person Tony has ever met—would be bad fathers, but what if Tony’s selfish decision to have the baby undoes the progress all three of them have made so far? What if bringing a child into their relationship is too much, what if it breaks them?

Tony’s pulled out of his thoughts by his phone vibrating across the bedside table. He snatches it up before the noise manages to wake Steve and Bucky, and sighs when he sees the reminder for his and Pepper’s lunch date. They haven’t really talked since their conversation after the board meeting, but Pepper must have told her husband that she’s worried about Tony, because Rhodey’s been texting more than usual, asking to meet up as soon as he’s back in the country. Tony has been making up excuses left and right, and Pepper’s definitely going to call his bullshit, and demand some real answers.

Sighing, Tony drops his towel, and reaches for his clothes. His appointment with the Omegatrician is in a little over an hour, and that’s what he needs to focus on right now. He’ll think about how to deal with Pepper’s questions later.

* * * * *

Doctor Simmons is—as Bruce had promised—an absolute gem of a woman. She personally draws some more blood from Tony to confirm Bruce’s results, then has Tony fill out a form with his personal and insurance information, and by the time that’s done, Doctor Fitz, her colleague—and friend, if the pictures of the two of them hanging on the wall behind her desk are anything to go by—is rolling in the ultrasound machine.

“You’re in good hands,” Doctor Fitz says encouragingly, undoubtedly able to smell the nervousness on Tony. He points at one of the pictures, this one of him and a ridiculously huge Alpha—which is saying something, Tony’s bonded to two ex-soldier, after all—with his arm draped over Doctor Fitz’s shoulders. “We have three healthy, amazing boys, all thanks to Jemma.”

“Flatterer,” Doctor Simmons accuses mildly, chuckling as she shooes a grinning Doctor Fitz out the door.

The banter, and the obvious affection between them is enough to put Tony a bit more at ease. He accepts the paper gown Doctor Simmons hands him, and steps behind the curtain to change while Doctor Simmons sets everything up for the ultrasound.

“Now,” Doctor Simmons says, smiling warmly, once Tony’s lying down, and folds back the gown to expose Tony’s abdomen. “You’re about nine weeks along, so I’m afraid there won’t be much to see yet, but we’ll be able to hear your baby’s heartbeat.”

Tony nods mutely, eyes already fixed on the screen nonetheless. He pulls a face when the cold gel is spread across his stomach, but immediately and completely forgets his discomfort when Doctor Simmons turns up the volume, and a fast but steady _thump thump_ fills the room. Tony swallows hard, blinking rapidly against the tears he can feel at the corners of his eyes. That’s his baby. _His_ baby.

The rest of the ultrasound passes in a daze, with Tony too overwhelmed to do more than give single word answers, and barely able to take in what Doctor Simmons is saying beyond that the baby is okay. Then Doctor Simmons is helping him off the table, asking him to clean up, and put his own clothes back on. When Tony rejoins her, she beams at him, and slides a photo—the very first photo of Tony’s baby—across the desk.

“Congratulations, Mister Stark,” she says, offering him a box of tissues with a knowing wink. “Would you like another copy for your Alpha?”

It’s like being doused in freezing water. Reality comes crashing back in, the happy fuzziness falling away, leaving Tony feeling vulnerable, and exposed. “I—I don’t—” he stammers, pushing his chair back, and standing up. “I need to go. I—thank you, thanks. But, you know, things to do, places to be. Gotta run.”

He ignores Doctor Simmons calling after him as he rushes out of the room, and nearly barrels into Doctor Fitz on his way out of the office. He forgoes waiting for the elevator, hurrying down the stairs instead, and nearly falling twice before he reaches the main entrance. Tony’s dimly aware that people are staring, but he’s too busy trying to calm his erratic breathing to pay them any mind. His legs feel heavy, like lead, his hands are shaking, and his head is throbbing violently.

Disoriented—the edges of his vision blurring, and starting to turn grey—Tony stumbles into the first empty alley he comes across, slides down the wall until he’s sprawled across the dirty ground, head tipped back against the cool brick, and cries, the ultrasound picture clutched against his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is anyone actually surprised that Tony hasn't talked to Bucky and Steve yet?


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is incredibly late, I know. Sorry! I've been sick all week, and haven't really had the energy to write/edit after work. But I'm back, so let's do this!

Tony registers the scent—something flowery, light and sweet, with an even milder, milkier undertone to it—and what it means—heavily pregnant Omega—before he notices the man crouched in front of him.

Blood is still rushing in Tony’s ears, and his chest feels tight, but he manages to gasp in a weak, stuttering breath. It sends a wave of dizziness through him, and makes a sharp, burning pain flare up in his lungs. He blinks, dazed, and shakes his head, flinching a little at the wave of sound crashing over him, finally able to penetrate the fog of panic pressing down on him.

“—not disagreeing, you know? It’s a little, uh, violent, sure, but there are weirder hobbies than ninjutsu. And you wouldn’t believe how handy that katana came in when I had a midnightly craving for fresh pineapple. Yeah, he was totally showing off, but it was kind of cute. And he did clean the kitchen afterwards, even the ceiling, so what’s the harm, right?”

Tony nods absently, jerkily, not entirely sure what he’s saying yes to, but the stranger’s whole face lights up at the movement.

“Hello, oh my God, hi!” he exclaims loudly, then winces, and smiles apologetically when the volume makes Tony cringe. Quieter, he continues, “Sorry, you must have one hell of a headache. I always get them after attacks. Or when something strange is about to happen, funnily enough. It’s like a sixth sense sort of thing, I guess? Oh, I’m Peter, by the way. Peter Parker.”

“To—” is all Tony gets out before his too dry throat closes up, making him cough, and wheeze pathetically. 

“Tony Stark, yeah, _obviously_ ,” Peter enthuses, looking starstruck. “I’ve only been following everything you do since, like, forever,” he gushes, then seems to realise he’s verging on the edge of being creepy, because he hastily continues with, “I mean, I’m majoring in biochemistry, with a minor in biophysics, and I’ve read all of your publications about the applications of quantum mechanics in biological problems, and I was about to start an internship at Stark Industries, which, let me tell you, dream come true, but then sprocket happened, and, well, that was that,” he finishes, gesturing at his swollen stomach. He shrugs, sheepish, and adds, “Also, I talk a lot, and I really like science.”

It takes Tony a moment to catch up with Peter’s words—seriously, the speed at which Peter is talking is impressive, even to Tony, who usually has the problem that people can’t keep up with him—but once he does, he makes a mental note to have Pepper send over Peter’s files. Few people meet the requirements needed to snatch up an internship position at Stark Industries, and it would be a shame to lose someone talented, maybe even to the competition. Yes, Tony is still feeling shaky and raw from his appointment with Doctor Simmons, and Peter is a pregnant Omega kid—honestly, he can’t be much older than nineteen, maybe twenty—who’s currently making all of Tony’s protective, nurturing instincts go completely haywire, but Tony has the oddest feeling that there’s more to the kid than meets the eye.

“Anyway,” Peter says, and holds out his hands. “Do you think you can get up now? Because this crouching thing is getting really uncomfortable. Not that there’s anything that isn’t uncomfortable when you’re carrying a squirmy little human around inside you. Trust me, the novelty of feeling him kick has worn off after about the third time he hit my bladder. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he’s doing it on purpose. You’ll see soon enough.”

“Can’t wait,” Tony croaks, only half-joking, and grasps the offered hands.

Peter grins knowingly, and manages to get them both standing with ease, surprisingly agile for someone who looks about ready to burst. “You’ll love every painful, sleepless moment of it. C’mon,” he says, only letting go of one of Tony’s hands, and using the other to tug Tony—still groggy, and frankly too exhausted to protest—along. “You look all jittery, you should probably eat something. There’s this amazing food cart right around the corner, they serve the best Mexican food you’ll ever taste. Seriously, it’s going to blow your mind, I’m not joking.”

Burritos—which already smell delicious—acquired, Peter leads Tony to a nearby bench, plopping down on it with a relieved sigh. Tony follows suit, unwraps his food, and can’t help but moan appreciatively at the first bite.

Peter beams at him. “Told you,” he croons victoriously, but curses at the unmistakable _pling_ of an incoming text. “Crap,” he says around a mouthful of rice and beans, fumbling his phone out of his pocket, somehow without either dropping his food, or spilling his drink. “Wade’s looking for me.”

At Tony’s questioningly quirked eyebrow, Peter elaborates, “My boyfriend. I was supposed to meet him after my check-up, but then you happened, and I kind of forgot.” He’s typing while he speaks, smiling softly at whatever reply he’s getting. 

“Have you been together long?” Tony asks, curious.

Peter pats his belly. “Eight months,” he says, shooting Tony a challenging glance, chin jutted out stubbornly.

“Hey, not judging,” Tony reassures quickly, holding up a placating hand. “Sometimes it’s complicated, I get it. I _definitely_ get it.”

“My aunt was so pissed when I told her,” Peter groans, but he sounds fond just mentioning her. “Getting knocked up at eighteen wasn’t exactly what she’d wanted for me. Didn’t help that Wade’s older, or that he wasn’t doing so great back then. He used to be special forces, had only been home for about a month when we met, and he wasn’t coping well. Like, at all. It was bad. _Really_ bad.” He scuffs the toe of one worn sneaker against the ground, and bites his wobbling lower lip. “Sorry, you don’t need to hear all of my drama. I’m oversharing, I tend to do that.”

Tony scoots closer, and presses their shoulders together. “It’s fine,” he says gently. “Both my Alphas were military, I know it isn’t always easy.” Peter leans into the contact with a sniffle, wiping a hand over his damp eyes. “Is he seeing someone? Wade, I mean?”

“He goes to group meetings sometimes,” Peter says, a little defensive, cheeks turning pink. “We can’t really afford more,” he admits, clearly embarrassed, but perks up when he spots an old, rattling Honda pulling up to the curb. “That’s him.”

The man stepping out of the car has the hood of his sweater pulled up over his head, which does little to hide the extensive scarring covering the majority of his face, and what’s visible of his neck. He’s tense, shoulders hunched, his eyes moving rapidly to scan his surroundings, every part of him hyperalert. The moment his gaze lands on Peter, though, his entire demeanour changes; he visibly relaxes, even if not fully, his scent changes from apprehensive to calm in an instant, and the smile he directs at Peter is so intimately tender, Tony feels like he’s intruding just by witnessing it.

“Hello, baby boy,” Wade breathes once he reaches them, and lovingly cradles Peter’s face between his hands as he bends down for a lingering kiss, then squats down to press his lips to Peter’s belly. “And hello to you, too, baby bump,” he rumbles softly, propping his chin on Peter’s stomach, squinting up at him, and brushing a thumb over his cheek. “Are you okay? You scared me.”

“Sorry,” Peter says, grimacing. He takes Wade’s hand, and kisses his knuckles, then links their fingers together, and settles their joint hands over his belly. “We’re fine, I promise. Met Tony Stark.”

“Ah,” Wade hums, amused, turning his head to look over at Tony without moving away from his position between Peter’s legs. “Did he do the rambling thing?”

“Wade!” Peter hisses, more resigned than annoyed, and swats at Wade’s head. “You’re the worst,” he accuses when Wade presses a laughing kiss to his jaw, then pulls a face, and rubs at his stomach. “And you woke Ben.”

Tony watches them—cooing over Ben, hands moving to feel him kick, so obviously happy despite everything standing in their way—and something inside him slots into place. This is what he wants, with Bucky and Steve and their baby, and he’ll never know if he can have it if he keeps hiding from them.

And he’s ready to take a chance, and find out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't resist throwing in some Spider-Man references. I am _not_ sorry.
> 
> Personal, [InnerCinema](http://archiveofourown.org/users/innercinema) approved headcanon for the Peter in this particular 'verse:
> 
> Sometime during his first year at college, Peter's long-term girlfriend, Gwen, dies in a tragic accident. No, there are no bell towers or pimped hoverboards involved. Peter, without Spider-Man, lacks an outlet for his anger and grief, and starts looking for distractions. He withdraws from his friends and family, turning more and more self-destructive. Which includes going out—aka sneaking into clubs, since he isn't 21 yet—and drinking. He meets Wade, who's only just come back from active duty, while out drinking. Wade, not doing so great, punches some Alpha getting all up in Peter's business in the face. They both get thrown out of the club, and end up back at Wade's apartment, drunk and high enough on adrenaline to decide that having unprotected sex is an awesome idea.
> 
> The next morning, Peter realises he's screwed up, and sneaks out of Wade's apartment without leaving his number. Only, a couple of weeks later, Peter discovers he's pregnant. He tells Aunt May, who's less than thrilled—Wade's nearly thirty, and clearly has a lot of issues—but supportive. She convinces Peter to go talk to Wade, and drives him to Wade's place. Peter is nervous as fuck, and a crying mess by the time Wade opens the door. Wade—a little confused, sure, but not actually heartless—pulls Peter into a hug. Peter confesses that he's pregnant, only 18—Wade probably has a small heart attack at that point—and says that he doesn't expect anything from Wade, but wanted Wade to have the chance to be involved.
> 
> And Wade fucking takes that chance. He sobers up, stops smoking, meets Aunt May, goes out looking for a steady job, starts going to group meetings etc. Peter is completely smitten, but thinks Wade's just being all Alpha-y because he accidentally knocked up some Omega, and feels a little protective. Wade eventually finds out, and is all, "What the fuck?" because he absolutely fucking adores Peter, but Peter could do so much better than him, obviously. Peter decides Wade is more than adequate, and everyone gets a happily ever after.
> 
> Anyway. Next chapter will be up on Tuesday, and Tony will finally have his talk with Bucky and Steve!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally!
> 
> They talk. Everyone cries. But happy tears this time, I swear!

Wade insists on driving Tony home. He isn’t patronising about it like some Alphas tend to get whenever Tony points out that he is, in fact, a fully grown adult perfectly able to take care of himself, though, but seems genuinely concerned about Tony’s wellbeing. Which, Tony has to admit, is justified, because he sways dangerously, and has to screw his eyes shut for a long moment to stave off a wave of nausea after standing up a little too quickly. 

“Do you think I hurt it?” Tony asks faintly, scared, one hand wandering lower to press against his abdomen as he casts an anxious look at Peter. “The baby? Is it going to be okay?”

Panicking about having panicked is extremely counterproductive, but Tony can’t help it. If he can’t even keep his baby safe while it’s still inside of him, what’s going to happen once it’s born? Small, and vulnerable, and—oh _God_ —droppable? One way or another, Tony is going to hurt that baby, probably already has, because he’s not cut out for this. He’s a shitty Omega—independent, stubborn, mouthy, dominant—and his complete incompetence when it comes to child rearing is just going to confirm that. And Bucky and Steve are bound to notice, and what Alpha would be happy about their Omega harming their offspring—

Tony yelps when steady hands close over his shaking ones, but, thankfully, his hindbrain recognises Peter’s disarming pregnancy scent before Tony has a chance to lash out. Then his palms are pressed against a broad chest, over a soothingly steady heartbeat, Peter’s fingers slotted between his in a soft squeeze. 

“Sergeant Major Wilson, badass extraordinaire, and human pacemaker at your service,” Wade drawls good-naturedly, which is enough to startle a raspy laugh out of Tony. He brushes his hand over Tony’s arm, a fleeting touch to draw Tony’s attention. “Kids are resilient lil’ bastards. Your bean’s going to be just fine.” 

Peter, his chin hooked over Tony’s shoulder, nods in agreement. “I was freaking out _a lot_ when I first found out about Ben, and he’s doing great now. Wade taught me some breathing techniques they talked about in group. And how to develop an anchor. It’s really helpful.” 

“Yeah,” Tony breathes, nodding. Looks like he won’t get around calling Doctor Xavier up again. He’d helped Tony through the worst of the aftereffects from his time in Afghanistan—the PTSD, dealing with his newly acquired physical limitations—and had later done so much for both Steve and Bucky as well, but it irks Tony that he can’t handle this on his own. There’s enough going on in his life right now without that part of his past rearing its ugly head again. 

Peter dozes off after a couple minutes of typical New York rush hour traffic, and Tony and Wade spend the rest of the ride in companionable silence, their hushed but no less passionate sing along rendition of Bohemian Rhapsody notwithstanding. By the time they pull up to Tony’s brownstone, Tony’s nervousness has returned with a vengeance. He’s not going to back out of the much needed talk with his Alphas, though, not again. 

Unbuckling his seatbelt, Tony fumbles for his wallet, taking out one of Bucky’s business cards, and passing it along to Wade. “Bucky, one of my mates, he works at the VA. You should talk to him.” 

Wade looks at it, but doesn’t take it. “I don’t need your charity,” he says tightly, hands clenching around the steering wheel. 

“It’s not charity,” Tony sighs, but takes the card back for a moment to scrawl his own cell number on the back. “You served, you have a right to get what you need now that you’re back.” Holding the card out again, this time with the backside up, he adds, “Think about it, all right? And tell Peter to give me a call when he’s ready to go back to work.” 

Wade stares, eyes widening as realisation dawns on him. Tony winks at him, grinning. “He’s incredibly smart, clearly. Compassionate. Stark Industries could use more people like him. If he wants the job, it’s his.”

The sound Wade makes can definitely be categorised as a squeal, his whole face lightening up before he pulls Tony into an almost bruising hug. “Thank you! Holy shit, he’s going to be over the fucking moon, _thank you!”_

When Tony turns around after waving Wade off, Steve is standing in the open door, his face a curious mix of confusion, hurt, and, most prominently, worry. Tony can’t see Bucky, but his scent—smelling exactly like Steve looks—is strong enough that Tony knows he can’t be far. Steeling himself, Tony pushes open the gate of their little front yard. “Hey, Steve, I—”

“Where were you?” Steve snaps, harsh enough to make Tony freeze mid-step. “You were—”

“Steve.” Bucky peeks over Steve’s shoulder, then tugs the obviously reluctant Steve back a little. “Go inside. We’re not doin’ this out here for the whole street to see. Steve, _go_ ,” he all but orders when Steve doesn’t immediately move. It takes another moment, but then Steve shoulders past him back inside. 

Bucky holds his arm out to Tony, pulling him close as soon as he’s within reach. “Are you all right, darlin’?” he asks, brushing a kiss over Tony’s forehead. 

Tony leans into the contact for a few second, then pulls back, and kisses the corner of Bucky’s mouth. “Let’s talk inside. Steve’s, uh. He’s really pissed, isn’t he?” 

“He’s a dumbass,” Bucky mutters, rolling his eyes. “And nah, you know how he gets when he’s angry. All quiet, and broody.”

Steve is pacing when they get to the living room, but sits with a huff when Bucky raises an eyebrow at him, and points of the couch. Bucky joins him, and they both look up at Tony, Bucky obviously exhausted, and Steve with a pout.

“You missed you lunch with Pepper,” Bucky begins, and Tony curses because yeah, he’d totally forgotten about that, what with everything that’s happened since his appointment with Doctor Simmons. “You didn’t answer our texts, or our calls, and we—”

“You moved out of our bedroom,” Steve interrupts, ignoring Bucky’s warning glare. “You said you were sick, but you don’t smell sick. Right now, you smell like some _Alpha assho_ —”

“Enough with the accusations, Steve. For fuck’s sake!” Bucky groans, shoving at Steve none too gently. 

Steve ducks his head, suitably chastised, cheeks flushing. All the previous tension drains out of him at once, and he slumps, his voice quiet, and trembling when he says, “If—if we did something—if—I’m sorry, Tony, if I did something that—that upset you, or made you leave, I didn’t mean to—”

“Steve, no,” Tony says empathically. He closes the distance between himself and the couch, cupping a hand over Steve’s cheek. Steve makes a raw, wounded noise in the back of his throat, arm curling around Tony’s waist so he can pull Tony into his lap, and hide his face in the crook of Tony’s neck, nosing against the bondbite there. “You didn’t do anything, honey. Well, you kind of did, but not—it’s not—fuck, fuck it. I’m pregnant.”

Steve stills, and Bucky, when Tony finds the courage to glance over at him, is staring dumbly, mouth hanging open comically. “I’m pregnant,” Tony repeats, chuckling weakly, “and I’m scared shitless. I—our lives are finally going the way we want them to, all of us are stable, _happy_. And I—I thought what if adding a baby to the mix screws that all up? Am I being selfish because I really, really want to keep it? Even if, maybe, the two of you don’t?”

Bucky whines. Tony threads a hand into his hair, thumb stroking along his brow, before he continues. “And it’s not like I’m healthy. Or young. The Omegatrician said it’s not a problem, not if we monitor everything closely, but—”

“You went to see a doctor?” Steve asks, eyes damp as he blinks up at Tony. 

Tony kisses him, a brief peck, then shifts so he can pull the by now crumpled ultrasound picture out of his jacket pocket. “Yeah. I, uh. Here.” 

Steve gasps, and Bucky leans closer, reverent gaze fixed on the picture as he whispers, awed, “We’re going to be parents.” 

“Actually,” Tony says, awkwardly clearing his throat. “One of you is. Going to be a dad, I mean. And I don’t know who.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Steve says, rubbing a strong, warm hand up and down Tony’s back. “Bucky’s been my only family for so long, right until we met you. I love him, and I’ll love any child of his just as much as I’d love my own.”

“Yeah, same.” Bucky tears his eyes away from the picture, beaming up at Tony instead. He shrugs, completely unconcerned. “‘Sides, I don’t see why the kid can’t have more than two dads. All the best things come in threes, right?”

“You’re going to be great. Both of you,” Tony agrees readily, wiping a hand over his eyes. “It’s just, I—”

Steve puts a finger over his lips, effectively silencing Tony. “You’re not your father.”

“Hush,” Bucky adds, smirking, when Tony scrunches up his nose in protest. “Babe, we’re going to be dads!” He plucks Tony right out of Steve’s arms, standing, and twirling him around a couple of times before hugging him close, and kissing the tip of his wrinkled nose. 

Tony laughs, hands finding their way back into Bucky’s hair, legs wrapping around Bucky’s waist. He’s simultaneously giddy, and dead tired, the stress of the last few weeks finally falling away, and leaving him feeling open, and needy. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles into Bucky’s neck, mouthing at Bucky’s pulse. “I love you, both of you, and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I love you.” 

“This isn’t all on you,” Steve reasons, pressing up against Tony’s back, and kissing his temple. “You needed us, but you didn’t feel safe enough to come talk to us. That’s something we have to talk about, and work on. Together.”

Tony cranes his neck, dropping his head back to rest on Steve’s shoulder, looking up at him with his best puppy dog eyes. “Later, though. Cuddles now?”

Steve’s lips twitch. “Sure, sweetheart.” 

“I love you,” Tony hums, smiling. 

“Love you, too,” Bucky and Steve say in unison, then frown, and poke their tongues out at each other.

Tony snorts, letting his eyes flutter shut as Bucky and Steve start bickering. Not everything is resolved, and he still has his doubts, but Tony also has his Alphas’ support, and that’s what’s most important.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, the chapter count has gone up. Originally, chapters 4, 5, and 6 were only two chapters. But they got longer when I started editing, so I decided to divide them up into three chapters. Meaning you get one more after this, and then a short epilogue.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sexy times ahead. I've updated the tags, so read those if you want to know what to expect. If you want to skip the smut, go to the 11th paragraph from the bottom.
> 
> (I hope you all appreciate my restraint here. Do you realise how easy it would've been to make a dumb, inappropriate joke? DO YOU?)

Tony wakes up to a mouth on his neck, pressing lazy, lingering kisses to his sleep warm skin. Humming appreciatively, eyes still closed, he tilts his head to grant better access, and breathes out a happy little moan when the mouth moves to suck at the sensitive spot behind his ear. 

Steve chuckles, and gives the lobe of Tony’s ear a playful nip. “Good morning, sweetheart.” 

“ _Good_ morning indeed,” Tony hums, and wriggles back against the erection nestled against his ass. Steve’s breath hitches tellingly, making Tony grin into his pillow. “You going to do something with that, big guy?”

“In—in a moment,” Steve gasps, gripping Tony’s hip with one deliciously big hand to stop Tony’s movements. Tony whines in protest, only somewhat appeased when Steve noses into his hair. “I need—I need to apologise first.” 

That’s enough to make Tony still. “What are you talking about?” 

“Yesterday. I shouldn’t have accused you of—of, you know,” Steve says, hand moving from Tony’s hip, stroking up Tony’s stomach until it rests over Tony’s heart. “I love you, and I trust you, but I was scared. Which isn’t an excuse, I know, and I’m sorry. I understand if you need some time, or—”

Tony cranes his neck, nudging Steve back, and turning just enough to press his lips to Steve’s. “I will accept your apology,” Tony mumbles against Steve’s mouth, giving his bottom lip a teasing lick, “if you’ll accept mine.” 

“Tony—” Steve starts, sounding affronted on Tony’s behalf—which never fails to send a little thrill through Tony—but Tony cuts him off with another lingering kiss. 

When he pulls back, he continues with, “I let my issues get in the way, and I worried you. Both of you. And I’m sorry about that.” 

Steve looks like he wants to argue some more, as per usual, but is successfully distracted when Tony sneaks a hand into his boxers, and gives his cock a firm stroke. “That’s cheating,” he half chuckles, half growls, and grinds against Tony, clamping his teeth over his bondbite on Tony’s neck.

Tony’s retort that everyone knows it’s Steve who’s the one playing dirty is interrupted by another body suddenly being pressed all along his front, a hand on his jaw, and a pair of insistent lips on his own. 

“Everyone’s sorry, everyone’s forgiven, let’s move on,” Bucky husks impatiently, one hand already busy with pushing Tony’s sleep pants out of the way. Tony twitches when his own erection is freed, and exposed to the air, then groans, long and low, when Bucky’s prosthetic fingers curl around it. “Steve, lube.”

Tony can’t actually see it, but he knows Steve is rolling his eyes from the tone of his voice when he chuckles, and says, “Always so charming in the mornings, Buck.”

“Shuddup,” Bucky grumbles, like the huge grump he absolutely is. “Less talkin’, more kissin’,” he demands, and then does exactly that, pulling Tony back into another deep, toe-curling kiss. 

Steve snorts, simultaneously resigned and amused, and Tony can’t help but laugh against Bucky’s mouth, a sound that morphs into a rumbling moan when Steve’s slick fingers brush over his perineum, before moving lower to spread the lube across the inside of Tony’s thighs. Steve’s cock follows shortly after, and Tony squeezes his legs together, relishing the hiss of pleasure that draws out of Steve. Then Bucky shifts, presses his hard cock up against Tony’s, and wraps his now lubed hand tightly around them both. 

With Steve’s thrusts rubbing along all the right places, and Bucky unrelenting rhythm, it’s easy for Tony to let himself fall. He feels featherlight and dazed, panting into Bucky’s kisses, clinging to Bucky’s shoulder with one hand, and reaching behind himself to thread the other into Steve’s hair. He tips over the edge when Bucky splays a hand over his belly, protective and possessive, and Steve settles one of his hands over Bucky’s, pressing down gently. 

Tony comes back to himself when Steve gets out of bed. He blinks sluggishly, and wrinkles his nose at the stickiness on his stomach and between his legs, then huffs when Bucky pushes him onto his back, and rolls on top of him. Bucky tends to get cuddly after sex, and Tony is more than content to let Bucky nuzzle into his neck and lick at his own bondbite, and too exhausted to complain about Bucky following his baser Alpha instincts, and massaging the mess of come deeper into Tony’s skin. 

Steve is a little less thrilled about that, it turns out. “You’re a menace, Buck,” he sighs as he gets back from the bathroom, and whacks Bucky’s ass with one of the washcloths he’s carrying. Bucky grunts, and bares his teeth at Steve, to which Steve looks entirely unimpressed. “Fuck you, too, pal,” he says cheerfully, but ruffles Bucky’s hair, and drops a brief, rare kiss on top of Bucky’s head before shooing him away.

Bucky dabs at his own stomach while Steve cleans up Tony, lovingly kissing Tony’s belly once he’s done. “How are you feeling, sweetheart?”

In lieu of a verbal reply, Tony clasps a hand over his mouth, and crawls out of bed, stumbling towards the bathroom on unsteady legs. He’d skipped dinner the night before—turning in early after their talk, and falling asleep sandwiched comfortably between his Alphas for the first time in what felt like forever—which doesn’t appear to discourage his body. He’s coughing up bile, throat raw and eyes stinging, when something soft and warm is draped over his back. 

“I’ve got you, babe,” Bucky says, lowering himself to the floor behind Tony, a strong, reassuring presence at Tony’s back. He tugs the bathrobe snugly around Tony, and kisses the side of Tony’s head. “Ssh, I’ve got you, I’m here, darlin’, I’ve got you.” 

Tony spits, tries to speak, and starts heaving again, letting out a frustrated whine. When he stops coughing, Bucky carefully moves them until he’s leaning back against the tub with Tony between his legs, lying curled against his chest. He wipes Tony’s mouth with the back of his hand, then wipes his hand on one of the towels, which makes Tony laugh weakly because he can perfectly picture Steve’s expression—somewhere between disgusted, annoyed, and completely done with everything—once he’s going to see it. The laughing makes his throat scream in protest, though, and Tony grimaces, tucking his face away in Bucky’s neck while Bucky rubs a soothing hand up and down his back. 

“Stevie’s gettin’ you some tea,” Bucky whispers quietly, mindful of Tony’s post puking headache. “He’s gonna go full mother hen on you, you know that, right?” 

“As if you’re any better,” Tony croaks, and smiles when he feels a chuckle vibrate through Bucky. “I love you, cariño.”

Bucky presses his lips to Tony’s forehead, lingering, and lightly brushes his thumb over the tears clinging to the corner of Tony’s eye. “Right back at ya, zvezda moya.”

“Your grandma would be appalled by your accent, you capitalist pig,” Steve jibes, walking into the room, and settling down across from Bucky and Tony, passing the cup he’s carrying over to Tony. “Ginger with a bit of honey,” he says, and then, because he’s a competitive little shit unable to let anything go, winks at Bucky, and adds, “Drink up, mo mhuirnín.”

“You’ve never even been to Ireland, you punk,” Bucky shoots back.

Steve grins, wholly unconcerned. “Jerk,” he quips back, and pulls Tony’s feet into his lap for a good, thorough rub. 

Tony yawns, snuggles back against Bucky more firmly, and curls one hand around Steve’s ankle. The floor’s cold, and he’s still feeling a little sick, but he hasn’t been this happy, and contented in weeks; both his Alphas are here, taking care of him, and for the first time since finding out about the baby, Tony really, truly believes that they might just be able to do this.

The three of them together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE END
> 
> No, not really. There's still a short epilogue that'll give us a bit of a glimpse into the future of Tony, Steve, Bucky, and their baby. Because I know you're all dying to find out whose baby it is. Feel free to guess!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it, folks. Thanks for your support, and all your lovely comments, ideas, incoherent squealing, and feedback. Enjoy this last bit of fluff.

“Slow down, pollito,” Tony cautions, and gently tugs the bottle back until Oliver releases the teat with a wet plop. “You’re going to give yourself a tummy ache.”

Oliver gurgles, blowing a string of spit bubbles, and reaches for the bottle again, trying to pull it closer. When Tony doesn’t relent, his mouth puckers up into a disgruntled little pout, and his face scrunches up adorably. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” Tony says, chuckling, tapping a finger against the tip of Oliver’s nose. “Doesn’t work when your Da does it, either.”

Which is a total lie, but Oliver doesn’t need to know how susceptible Tony is to the Steve Rogers Pout™ just yet. Considering what Tony’d put his parents through during his teenage years, they’ll have their hands full without Oliver finding out that fluttering his big blue eyes at Tony will make Tony melt pretty much instantly. 

“Okay,” Tony instructs, shifting Oliver so he’s sitting cradled in the crook of Tony’s arm, rather than lying back. “Let’s try this again.”

The change of position does the trick, making Oliver drink more slowly, one hand on the bottle, and the other curled around Tony’s thumb. Tony watches him with a fond smile, brushing his forefinger back and forth over one chubby cheek. It still amazes Tony, sometimes, just how much Oliver resembles Steve; if it weren’t for the light olive hue of his skin, and the ever so slight curls in his blond hair, Oliver really would look like a miniature version of his Da. 

A small foot bumps against Tony’s hip, and when he looks down, Tony’s met with the kind of glare he usually gets from Bucky when he dares to wake Bucky up before noon on a Sunday. “What’s wrong, peanut?” Tony asks, amused. “Are we grumpy again, Sergeant Fussypants?”

“Uh-uh,” Louis whines, kicking at Tony some more. 

Oliver’s eyes are starting to droop, so Tony puts the bottle down on the bedside table. He leans back against the headboard, and settles the sleepy Oliver on his chest. Both hands free again, he picks up Louis, bringing him close so he can tuck his face away in Tony’s neck. Louis sniffles, and makes displeased grumbling noises for a few more minutes, but Tony’s scent, and soft humming manage to calm him down eventually. 

The quiet is only disturbed when Oliver’s burps, thankfully without any spit-up this time. When Tony peeks down at him, Oliver’s already fast asleep, mouth slack, and lashes fanned out over rosy cheeks. “I love you,” Tony whispers against the crown of his head, followed by a kiss. “And you,” he adds, turning his head to kiss Louis’ temple. “My beautiful boys.” 

In answer, Louis blows a raspberry, making Tony snort, and roll his eyes. It’s not as immediately obvious who Louis’ Alpha parent is as it is with Oliver, Tony and Bucky’s features are too similar for that, and Louis has both Tony’s nearly black hair, and dark amber eyes. Louis’ character is all his Papa, though; outwardly bristly, but incredibly sweet, and very affectionate with the few people he truly cares about. 

Tony buries his nose in Louis’ downy hair, and inhales deeply, letting his eyes flutter shut. At ten months old, Louis still smells mostly like baby, but there are already traces of what will later bloom into his Omega scent. It never fails to soothe Tony, even if he’d initially been nervous about how Bucky was going to react to having an Omega son, something even some of the more progressive Alphas wouldn’t be thrilled about. Bucky’d simply leveled Tony with a look dry enough to make the Sahara jealous the one time Tony had mentioned it, though, and that had been that. 

Well, apart from Steve making a huge scene when one of the nurses at the clinic had been stupid enough to mention how disappointed they must be about it, especially with Oliver being an Alpha through and through. Bucky refuses to delete the video of Steve’s epic rant from his phone, much to Steve’s dismay, and to Tony’s absolute delight. 

“All right, my precious little science-ling,” Tony says, reluctantly pulling back after one last quick nuzzle. “You going to help Daddy get some work done?”

Louis babbles excitedly as Tony brings up the holo screen—Who’d have thought that getting accidentally knocked up would result in Tony earning himself another patent for inventing a work surface that’s easy to navigate one-handedly from anywhere in the house?—wide eyes fixed on the moving, flashy parts, content to watch while Tony checks his emails, and moves his appointments around. 

His workload has decreased significantly ever since making Pepper CEO, and while it had taken him a while to get used to not going into work every day—and then working overtime more often than not—Tony hasn’t regretted his decision even once. Unlike him, Pepper actually enjoys all the paperwork related tasks that come with being in charge of a business, and Tony will never, ever complain about being able to spend time with his children, and see them grow up, happy and knowing they’re loved. 

Louis perks up at the chime from the holo screen’s built-in chat app, craning his neck to beam up at Tony. “Da?”

“Maybe,” Tony agrees, opening the message.

“Papa?”

“I do talk to people other than your fathers, you know,” Tony says as he reads, absently rubbing his free hand up and down Louis’ back. “See? It’s your Uncle Peter. He’s asking if he can come over with your Uncle Wade and Ben tomorrow.”

Louis pulls a face. “Gah.” 

Tony kisses his cheek. “You think I don’t know about the treats Wade keeps sneaking you, but I do. You’re acting all cranky now, but the moment the animal crackers come out, you’re going to be all smiles and sunshine, you adorable little traitor.” 

“Coco?” Louis asks, very interested all of a sudden.

“Yes,” Tony says, unable and unwilling to hide his adoring, undoubtedly sappy smile, and brushes another kiss over Louis’ forehead. “I’m sure there will be crocodile crackers.”

After texting Peter back that he’d love to see them, Tony shuts everything down, and—with months of practice under his belt—manages to maneuver all three of them into a lying position, both boys on his chest, without waking Oliver. Louis fusses half-heartedly, but he’s yawning already, and falls asleep soon enough, reassuringly steady breaths puffing against Tony’s throat. 

Tony rests his cheek against the top of Oliver’s head, hugs Louis a little closer, and allows himself to drift off as well. He comes to again to Steve cuddled up against his back, arm slung over his waist, and Bucky murmuring to the babies. 

“—an’ that’s why I’m right, and your Da’s wrong,” he says, then adds a completely serious, “Exactly!” when Oliver giggles, and Louis squeaks out a high-pitched, “Oh-oh!”

“What’s he telling them?” Tony asks, reaching down to link his fingers through Steve’s. 

Steve kisses Tony’s shoulder. “Lies,” he says, but Tony can feel him grin against his skin. “Nothing but lies.” 

Chuckling, Tony peels open his eyes, turning his head to peck Steve on the lips, before glancing over at Bucky, who’s lying on his stomach, propped up on his elbows with the babies on their backs between his arms, laughing and squealing at the silly faces he makes at them.

“Just tellin’ it how it is,” Bucky insists, leaning closer to kiss Tony, sweet and lingering. He jerks away abruptly with a highly inappropriate curse, Louis’ fingers tangled in his hair. 

“See? They’re on my side,” Steve says, laughing smugly even as he sits up, and carefully lifts Louis into his arms. “Because I’m the one who’s right. Yes, I am,” he coos, peppering kisses all over a shrieking Louis’ face. 

Bucky sits up on Tony’s other side, Oliver in his lap. “Lou peed on you literally ten minutes ago. That’s worse than hair pullin’.” 

“Yes,” Oliver agrees, with all the severity an almost one-year-old who has no idea what’s going on can muster, gracing Bucky with a gummy smile when Bucky exclaims in triumph, and tickles metal fingers over his tummy. 

“I love you,” Tony blurts out, suddenly feeling a little overwhelmed by the perfectness of the situation; his Alphas and his babies, all healthy and happy, and here with him, where they belong. Voice thick with emotion, he manages, “I love you so much, I—I don’t know how—how to—I _love_ you.”

Bucky cups the side of his face, thumb brushing over the edge of Tony’s mouth. “We know, darlin’,” he promises. “We know.”

“And we love you, too,” Steve continues, threading his fingers into Tony’s hair. “All of us. Always.” 

Tony smiles, sniffles, rubs a hand over his damp eyes, and believes it when he half laughs, half cries, “I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Believe it or not, twins was the plan all along. I actually did research, and it's entirely possible to be pregnant with twins, and neither see it during ultrasounds, nor hear two heartbeats. It's unlikely, but possible. Surprise baby, yo! 
> 
> Again, thank you all for being patient with me, this was a blast. And it's not over, not really. There will be more of Peter and Wade, we'll get to see some more of what Tony's pregnancy was like, and by then I'll probably have ideas for ten more one-shots. You're not getting rid of me just yet, is what I'm saying.
> 
> Also, the babies' full names are Oliver Sebastian, and Louis Christopher because I can do whatever I want, you can't stop me!

**Author's Note:**

> Go check out my other [work](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Potrix/works), or come over and say hi on [tumblr](http://potrix-the-queerschlaeger.tumblr.com/).

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Lost & Found](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11688984) by [Thursday26](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thursday26/pseuds/Thursday26)




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